I Am Not There
by Athena's Owl
Summary: Do not stand by my grave and cry; I am not there I did not die. Short story written in verse.


_So here's the deal: it's currently two in the morning and I quite literally just finished writing this. I started a poem and it kind of turned into a mini story written in verse based on the Thunderbirds. It's kind of like a birthday present to myself if anybody understands that. Heck I don't, it's two in the morning! It's not a particularly important piece and I didn't put a heck of a lot of work into it so I didn't see the point in getting in Betaed. Ergo it is probably rife with mistakes. So I am the only one to blame for stupid spelling mistakes and bad rhymes. Most of them should be fine but some words are harder to rhyme than others and those are the ones that I just chucked together. __**Warning**__: it's pretty dark, and though it doesn't seem too bad to me bits of it may be a slightly gory to others. It has a happy ending though! _

**I Am Not There**

Flashes of memory deep in the night;  
struggling, kicking, and screaming in fright;  
their hold is unbroken; their whispers are cold,  
as a horrific scene begins to unfold.

The darkness looms, a bleak shadow falls,  
you see the blood upon the walls.  
Everything that could have been-  
the past, the present, the in between

is all right here in this one room,  
this mausoleum, this darkened tomb.  
For all your loved ones, now you see,  
are lying amongst the broken debris

of happy memories, now no more,  
as their blood pools upon the floor.  
From face to face your gaze does flick,  
you take a step, the floor is slick.

The first you come to, '_Please God no!'_,  
is dark of hair, and at once you know  
that here it is the eldest lays,  
dead for sure, perhaps for days.

His once handsome face is streaked with blood,  
his uniform torn, and flecked with mud.  
His eyes are open in an unseeing stare,  
fixed forever in an accusing glare

directed at you, of this you're sure;  
provoking a pain you can't endure.  
"_It's not my fault_," you beg and plead  
yet you weren't there when they had need.

Though wrapped in guilt you still move on  
to other lives, now dead and gone.  
Your breath catches as you seen the one  
who's life had barely just begun.

He's battered and broken, lying still as a doll  
that was dropped from a height, no break for its fall.  
Limbs just aren't where they ought to be,  
the angles all wrong, and you can't bear to see

the blood that's caked on his face, in his hair,  
and it comes to you that life isn't fair.  
Why should he, so young and so bright  
be the one claimed by eternal night?

It was all your fault; you know that it's true.  
If you'd just been sooner, he'd be alive too.  
There had to be something you could have done;  
simple, or hard, or in the long run.

Ignoring the tears that now streak your face  
your eyes pick through this desolate place,  
searching and finding the next one to grieve  
in the farthest corner, and you can barely believe

that this cadaver at one time did live,  
the burns are so bad, and you'll never forgive  
yourself now you've seen this horrible sight.  
"_It can't be, it isn't, it just isn't right!_"

And yet there he lays, skin blistered and black.  
What's left of his face is sooty, and slack.  
Planets and stars that look down from the skies,  
seen never again by these visionless eyes.

Though you know it is hopeless, you stumble on  
gasping for breath, continually drawn  
to the others that lie still waiting to be  
found in amongst this phrenic debris.

The next you see lying there on the ground,  
silent as the rest, he makes not a sound.  
He's lying face down so his form you must touch  
to see just what happened, to determine how much

pain he was in when it came to an end.  
You gently turn him, and you don't intend  
for the sob to escape, now that that wound's plain.  
His eyes are still open, still proving his pain.

Always a thoughtful, creative, heart  
it's shocking to see how he did depart.  
The stain of blood from his neck to his hips,  
and the pale tinge of blue that colors his lips.

You're choking know, can barely draw air  
through sobs of grief, though waves of despair.  
You see the fifth one, lying close enough  
that you barely need move, but still it is tough

to see this soul, as though he's asleep.  
Seemingly peaceful, in dreams he'll now keep.  
His energy gone, no humor remains,  
and it's now that you lose the composure you've strained

to keep while you find son after son,  
dead…gone; their lives already done.  
You've seen enough but you know that there's more;  
the obsidian plinth you just can't ignore.

For there on it lies, in pride of place,  
your beautiful wife and her motionless face.  
It's Snow White gone wrong, for you know she won't wake;  
you can't take anymore and you feel yourself break

Into pieces that scatter for miles apart.  
There's no reconstructing your broken heart.  
For there's nothing now, you have no family left  
for they were your life, and now it's bereft.

You suddenly wake to a knock on the door  
and you shoot up in bed, not in dreams anymore.  
Tears are still making paths down your face  
and you know that's a nightmare you won't soon erase.

Quickly swiping away the wet streaks,  
you get up out of bed, to the sounds of its creaks.  
You stride to the door and open it wide,  
revealing your sons, whom you usher inside.

It seems that these horrors occur all on one night,  
for they don't hesitate, all five of them white.  
Somehow you manage to all fit in one bed;  
though it's tight you'd surely be nowhere instead

For as each falls asleep, feeling safe and protected,  
you are quite sure that they were affected  
as you much as you were by these visions of fright  
that plagued you all throughout this night.

But now it is over, and everyone's here;  
save one, they're all safe and there's nothing to fear.  
You whisper the words '_I love you_' to the air  
and fall into slumber knowing your sons are all there.

Yet right before sleep overtakes your weary mind  
you swear you hear an answer from a voice soft and kind.  
Your dreams offer solace, as dreams often do,  
for you know that you heard

'_I love you too_'


End file.
